


Traditions

by HashtagLEH



Series: Something Like a Family [12]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abusive Lonnie Byers, Babysitter Billy Hargrove, Background Party (Stranger Things), Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Billy and Steve Are Cheating Cheaters Who Cheat, Close enough anyway - Freeform, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gay Billy Hargrove, Gen, Good Friend Jonathan Byers, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Minor Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, New Year's Eve, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Abuse, Phase 10 is a Competitive Sport, Pre-Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Recreational Drug Use, Soft Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, Underage Drinking, but Billy doesn't know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashtagLEH/pseuds/HashtagLEH
Summary: He wasn’t intending to stay out there for long, really. That would just make them think he was hiding, which hewasn’t; he was just…getting some air. Just for a minute. Just for long enough that people would return to their own thing, and Billy could go back in and pretend like nothing had happened, that everything was fine and normal. He would clean up the broken plate and if anyone noticed he could laugh it off with some comment about clumsy fingers, and everything would befine.But it wasn’t long before the back door opened behind him, and he tensed a little but didn’t turn to look behind him, waiting for the other to speak for him to find out who it was who had come to check on him like heneededit or some shit.A moment later, Jonathan sat next to him on the porch step he’d settled on, and he blinked because he would’ve expected Max or even Steve to be the one to come out, but notByers.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Billy Hargrove, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Jonathan Byers & Billy Hargrove, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler & Billy Hargrove, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair
Series: Something Like a Family [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009263
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> I had a harder time finding a title for this work than I have for any of my other stories, ever. I'm still not 100% on it, so if it ever changes don't be surprised lol.

Billy pulled into the Byers’ driveway right behind Steve, and had to shove aside the flutter in his chest at the sight of the familiar fluffy head of hair in the driver’s seat. It had been over a week since he had seen the guy, off on his trip with his parents for most of the break. He told himself he was just glad to see someone his age at this party, and someone he could tolerate, no less. It was definitely not that he was pleased to see Steve specifically.

He climbed out of his car, Max bouncing out of her side of the car and looking about to go tearing off inside to see her friends like it had been forever since she’d seen them rather than a day, but Billy stopped her with a sharp whistle to get her attention.

“Don’t you dare leave me to take the sodas in,” he scolded, hiding the fact that he was in good spirits that evening, because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of being _soft_. “You’re the one who insisted we contribute to the cause.” The cause being, not making Mrs. Byers prepare all the dinner – and not just because they didn’t want to put her out. Billy had heard stories of Mrs. Byers’ cooking. He might not have believed them, but even Will had sighed with relief when Lucas mentioned how he would bring some of his mom’s macaroni salad, and he figured her own kids would probably know best.

Max gave a long-suffering sigh that was highly melodramatic and unnecessary, before opening her door again to grab the liters of soda from the back that Billy had grabbed from the grocery store the day before. Billy ignored her as he went to greet Steve as the other guy was getting out of his own car.

“Hey, how was slumming it in Florida?” Billy called with a teasing grin.

Steve huffed, closing the door behind him and locking it. “Too hot,” he complained, swinging a bag of oranges he’d apparently brought for the cause. “I swear, I’m still soaked from the humidity.”

“You’re such a brat,” Billy laughed, shoving him a little. Steve immediately shoved him back, and Billy let himself stumble slightly as he vaguely noted the sound of the Camaro’s door closing behind him.

“I’ve got your beer, too!” Max called out, already running up to the porch with her back to him, blocking his view of the items in her hands, and Billy couldn’t tell if she was serious or not but he figured he’d find out soon anyway so he didn’t say anything and just glared in the direction she’d disappeared to.

“If we get in trouble because Max decided to pass out our beers to the rest of the kids, I’m not gonna be too pleased,” Steve said, but he already looked resigned as he watched Max close the front door behind her, the sound of multiple voices spilling out being softened by the barrier again.

“Pretty sure Hopper knows Max enough to know that she and the rest of the shitheads can get into all sorts of trouble _without_ our help,” Billy said dryly, walking more sedately than Max had up to the front porch with Steve.

“I’d say you’re right there, but if El gets even a sip of alcohol I’m pretty sure Hopper would throw a riot,” Steve laughed, and Billy had to admit that that was probably true, too. Hopper was the epitome of overprotective when it came to his daughter, and logic didn’t always prevail in that case.

Steve glanced over at Billy from the corner of his eyes as they trod up the stairs of the porch. “So…do I want to know who you pissed off this time to get that shiner while I was gone?”

Billy’s hand flinched up a little before he caught the movement, restraining himself from touching a hand to the healing bruise on his face. It was five days old now, a little yellowed and green in spots, _almost_ blending in with the skin around it but still clearly visible. He had honestly forgotten about it; Max had known immediately when she’d seen it days ago that Neil was the one to blame, and he’d kept her from saying or doing anything about it because like _hell_ did he need to be worrying about _that_ , and then after that it wasn’t brought up again. Honestly his wrist hurt more, suddenly remembering it when he moved it too much or tried to grab something with that hand, but he’d left the wrap bandage at home to avoid questions or _noticing_ from any of the kids, because he really didn’t want to deal with that. He hadn’t expected Steve to ask about the bruise either, and not just because he himself had forgotten about it, but because Steve remained generally quiet on the subject of how he received so many injuries and he’d expected that to continue.

He shrugged in response to Steve’s question though, and lifted his uninjured hand to knock on the front door. “Not important, pretty boy – don’t worry about it.”

And Steve didn’t say anything about it, just looked at him again in a way that Billy felt like he was being _seen_ , which made him uncomfortable for reasons he didn’t want to examine. He ignored it though when the door swung open, and El was the one standing there, beaming up at him.

“Billy!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug immediately.

“Hey, kid,” Billy said, patting her back a couple of times. He was getting used to her constant hugging, and he didn’t want to discourage her from showing affection because he was certain that it had been something that had been disapproved of as she’d grown up in the lab, but he was still uncomfortable sometimes with it. “Hey, look, Steve needs a hug, too!”

He hadn’t really expected that to work, but a moment later El had released him, turning to Steve and hugging him just as tightly as she’d hugged Billy. Billy laughed silently when he caught Steve’s eye, at the way he mouthed, _I hate you_ , as he hugged El back – especially because Billy knew that the guy didn’t actually mind, had grown to love being the kids’ babysitter and was perfectly willing to include El in that.

El started chattering at Steve, and Billy moved past her into the warmth of the living room, smirking at the sight of Mike standing off to the side, oh-so-casually making sure El was alright.

“Hey, Mikey,” Billy said, ruffling the kid’s hair as he went past.

Mike scowled and hastily ran his hands over the upset hair to get it back into place. “Don’t call me that,” he griped, but Billy was already going into the kitchen to check that the drinks didn’t actually include his beers among the soda.

Mrs. Byers was standing at the stove, mashing the potatoes in the large silver pot over the front burner and laughing at something Hopper was saying as Billy walked in. Billy almost turned around and walked out, because he’d known he was going to see Hopper at this party but he hadn’t really expected it to be so soon, and he still didn’t know how he was supposed to act around him. Not after what had happened the day after Christmas.

But before he could make his escape, Hopper looked up from where he was peeling hard boiled eggs, mustard and mayonnaise sitting ready to be used in front of him, and pointed at him with his spoon.

“Billy! Tell me you know how to make mashed potatoes,” he said, voice humored even through the current of very real pleading.

“I am _killing it_ , and not in a good way,” Mrs. Byers agreed, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m sure it can’t be _that bad_ …” Billy said, trying to be polite as he wandered over to look into the pot. And then stopped, because there was a _lot_ of water in the pot and even he knew that that was too much.

“No, it’s definitely worse,” Mrs. Byers said, peering into the pot as she stood beside him.

“Did you remember to drain the water off after boiling the potatoes?” was all Billy could think to say.

Mrs. Byers looked at him, almost disbelievingly. “You’re _supposed_ to do that?”

Billy resisted the urge to groan, settling for closing his eyes for a brief moment before he shook his head in a bit of resignation, taking the masher from her before gently guiding her away from the stove.

“I’m gonna need dried potato flakes, sour cream, and a stick of butter,” he directed, eyeing the half-mashed potatoes critically as they floated sadly in the water.

Mrs. Byers frowned. “But using dried potato flakes isn’t the _real_ way to make mashed potatoes; Karen gave me tips.”

Billy resisted the urge to ask where this Karen had gotten her tips from, and why she hadn’t shared how the water needed to be drained off, as that was a pretty important step. Instead he said, “It’ll be fine to mix it in with this, and the kids won’t notice, anyway.”

That seemed to be enough for Mrs. Byers, as she made her way to the pantry and the refrigerator to fetch the requested items. While she did that, Billy picked up the pot and went to the sink, draining off as much water as he could without losing the potatoes. When he deemed it sufficient for his needs, he returned the pot to the stove and set to making the potatoes resemble mashed potatoes more, adding the dried flakes, sour cream, and butter as needed before taking the masher again and squishing the bigger chunks.

“You’re a _lifesaver_ ,” Mrs. Byers said, watching as he worked on the potatoes. He flashed her a smile and winked, saying, “I did used to be a lifeguard, back in California, so this is no big deal.”

Mrs. Byers chuckled and shook her head, before she seemed to notice Hopper’s poor egg peeling skills and set on him, apparently better at that than at potatoes as she made sure he didn’t rip chunks from the outside of the eggs as he went.

After the potatoes were done and the burner set on low to keep them warm while the rest of the food was finished, Billy decided that Mrs. Byers and Hopper were doing just fine on their own and decided to leave them to it, quietly making his way back to the living room. His eyes took in everyone at once; the boys were all seated around the coffee table and arguing about something involving…toothpicks? Or something, he didn’t know. Occasionally one of them would make a comment that just seemed to stoke the flames of their ire, shouting getting impossibly louder as they talked over each other to make their point. Nancy Wheeler was talking with Max and El about something on the couch, but neither Max nor El seemed upset so Billy didn’t think he needed to go over and say something bitchy to the older Wheeler. Steve was sitting on the arm of the other couch, right next to Jonathan Byers, talking with him quietly and occasionally glancing at the kids with an amused and fond expression. His eyes flicked up to meet Billy’s when Billy walked back into the room, so Billy went over to join the two of them.

Unfortunately the only seat was right next to Byers, but he shoved aside the disappointment and plopped himself into the seat, giving a small grunt in response to Byers’ quiet greeting.

“Food should be ready in about twenty minutes,” Billy announced, eyes zeroing in on the bottle in Steve’s hand. “Please tell me that’s alcohol; I won’t be able to handle the night without it.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but no,” Steve said in amusement. “It’s root beer – you want some anyway?”

“Fuck, may as well,” Billy sighed, reaching across Jonathan to accept the bottle from Steve’s hand. He took a long pull from it, grimacing a little at the taste because it wasn’t what he craved, but it wasn’t actually that bad. At least it was a caffeinated version, he thought as he checked the label.

“Mom would kill me if I brought alcohol into the house, but if you’re interested I have some weed, after the kids are gone,” Byers volunteered, a little tentatively as he glanced at him under his fringe.

Billy lowered the bottle, swallowing the last of the soda in his mouth and licking his lips as he evaluated the other guy. Then he grinned, passing the now almost empty bottle back to Steve and saying, “Shit, Byers, I may decide to like you, after all.”

Byers didn’t actually look all that certain how to take the comment, and he blinked at him, nodding but not saying anything. Billy glanced over at Steve, who was looking at him oddly, with an expression Billy couldn’t wholly interpret, but he decided to examine that later and tilted his head at him, saying, “You in too, Harrington?”

Steve glanced at Byers and then back at Billy before shrugging and drinking the last of the soda in his bottle. “Sure, why not?”

“I’m running low on paper, I’ll have to ask Nancy if she has any,” Byers said, almost to himself as he glanced at his girlfriend across the room. Nancy clearly heard her name, glancing up and giving him a quick smile before turning back to her conversation with the girls.

Billy stared at Byers incredulously though, and said, “Don’t tell me the Ice Princess _smokes weed_ with you.”

Jonathan shrugged carelessly, like whether or not Billy believed him didn’t matter to him – which honestly made Billy believe him more. “Sure she does.” And then he narrowed his eyes at Billy, a bit of steel appearing in his frame. “And don’t call her that, or your weed privileges are revoked.”

Billy raised his hands in almost mocking surrender, because it would be a while – if ever – before he wouldn’t hate Nancy at least a little bit for ~~how she’d treated Steve~~ being such a bitch, but he was impressed enough at the sight of some spine from the other guy that he would keep his mouth shut about it around _him_ , at least. Also because weed was weed and the expectation of it later that night was enough to calm him for the now, and he didn’t want to jeopardize that.

Dinner ended up being a bit later than expected, because apparently Mrs. Byers didn’t know how to gauge the time that the preparation took for large groups – Byers’ words, not his. The kids only got more chatty and hyper as the night went on, filling up on good food but mostly soda and snack foods. Billy was impressed by Mrs. Byers’ foresight in foods like the devilled eggs and the chips with layered bean dip, because the kids munched on those after dinner without being upset at the lack of cheese puffs or licorice or other foods more common as New Year’s Eve snacks. It was a smart way of avoiding prolonging their sugar highs while also making sure they had enough to eat.

After dinner, the kids went back to the living room to play some game they’d started earlier that Billy was still unclear on the objective of, and he wasn’t the only one who breathed a sigh of relief as they took their noise with them. Mrs. Byers – “Call me Joyce,” she’d insisted to him during dinner – left with Hopper to go to the front porch, presumably to get a smoke before braving the overwhelming company of the kids again. Steve went to join the kids when Dustin called for him to come play too, and it wasn’t long after that when Jonathan and Nancy finished at the table and went to the living room again as well.

Billy could’ve joined them, but he was feeling partied out – certainly a strange feeling, as it was barely nine o’ clock at that point and he’d gone to keggers that were much longer, but something about those kids tired him out much faster than a bunch of horny and drunk high schoolers. He thought it might’ve been that he watched the kids more, made sure they were all doing fine, and he scoffed to himself at how he had practically adopted them at this point, this band of freaks and nerds. But it was strange, to be in the Byers house again, for the first time since that night with the demodogs and the gate, and he had to keep reminding himself that he didn’t actually need to take a head count every few minutes to make sure they were all safe.

But much as he was protective of them, it felt like a lot right then after over an hour with their yelling back and forth, and he figured he could take a bit of a breather before he went to join them again – couldn’t avoid them all night, after all, and he didn’t really have anywhere else to go. He’d been invited to a couple of New Year’s parties by different people at school, but no one interesting was going to be there so he had told them he had other plans.

He figured he could wash the dishes from the prep in the meantime, so he picked up the emptied serving bowls and plates from some of the kids who hadn’t taken them to the kitchen themselves, before taking them into the kitchen to wash them at the sink. He filled one side of the sink with soapy water, scrubbing at the accumulated food and washing and rinsing them before putting them in the empty drying rack next to the sink. He could feel himself calming as he worked, taking another trip to the dining room to get the rest of the dishes when he was done with the first set. It went a little slower than it normally would, because he did have to be careful with his injured wrist that twinged in protest when he moved it the wrong way, but it was doing much better than it had been doing days before, because he’d reset it soon enough after it had been dislocated that there wasn’t _too_ much damage done to it. And, dishes was one of those few chores that he didn’t really mind doing – often even enjoyed doing them, at times.

He used to wash dishes with his mom, he remembered. Well, usually he would be on drying-and-putting-away duty after she had washed them, but because of it he’d never minded doing the dishes, even after she was gone. And, he figured Joyce could use the help after she’d been making the different foods for hours before they arrived. Even with all the kids bringing something to help out, the bulk of the food had been prepared by her.

He squinted at the plate he was scrubbing under the running water, because there was some kind of food that had dried on, was being particularly stubborn about coming out, and he scrubbed harder at it, making a quiet _ha!_ under his breath when it finally flaked off and swirled down the drain. He was certain that it was Dustin’s fault that the food was all over this plate more than the others, and if it wasn’t he was going to blame him anyway. He’d seen the kid eat – it wouldn’t exactly be surprising that he made it harder to wash his dishes either.

It was as he was rinsing the plate after scrubbing it in the soapy water that he heard a quiet sound behind him, and – he really didn’t mean to react the way he did.

But for a moment – just a moment, but that was all he needed – he forgot where he was, forgot that he wasn’t washing dishes at home, at the house on Old Cherry Road where Neil could appear at any moment, and he’d been grabbed while he’d been doing dishes before, so he spun around to face whoever was sneaking up on him – not that he thought it was anyone _other_ than Neil – because he didn’t want to be caught off guard again. And he forgot the plate still in his hand, and he would never _ever_ swing it defensively at his dad because that would just make things _so much worse_ and so when he slammed his back against the sink, the plate was still in his grip and the momentum of his arm swinging around had him trying to grab at the counter to keep his balance. It meant that when he did make a grab for the counter, the forgotten plate smashed against the lip, shattering into pieces that fell to the floor.

And then Billy saw Jonathan standing in front of him, looking surprised and startled at Billy’s violent reaction, and Billy froze, realization and remembrance coming back in a rush. He could feel his face flush in embarrassment that he had reacted so strongly to something so _small_ , and then Jonathan’s eyes were lighting with something too close to _understanding_ , while Max’s alarmed face suddenly appeared around the corner, checking that everything was okay after hearing the plate smashing from the other room.

And Billy was feeling cornered, and he didn’t want anyone else coming to investigate the noise and see him standing there like some kind of spooked animal, so without a word, he turned and beat a hasty retreat out the back door before either of them could say anything.

He wasn’t intending to stay out there for long, really. That would just make them think he was hiding, which he _wasn’t_ ; he was just…getting some air. Just for a minute. Just for long enough that people would return to their own thing, and Billy could go back in and pretend like nothing had happened, that everything was fine and normal. He would clean up the broken plate and if anyone noticed he could laugh it off with some comment about clumsy fingers, and everything would be _fine_.

But it wasn’t long before the back door opened behind him, and he tensed a little but didn’t turn to look behind him, waiting for the other to speak for him to find out who it was who had come to check on him like he _needed_ it or some shit.

A moment later, Jonathan sat next to him on the porch step he’d settled on, and he blinked because he would’ve expected Max or even Steve to be the one to come out, but not _Byers_.

“Want a smoke?” the guy offered, pack already in his hand, holding it out to Billy without looking, just staring into the semi-darkness of the backyard.

Billy didn’t say anything, but he took one of the cigarettes and slipped it between his lips, reaching for the lighter in his pocket to light it. Beside him, Byers was doing the same with his own.

They smoked in silence for a minute or so, and Billy began to relax a little, thinking that Byers wasn’t going to say anything about the total scene he’d caused inside.

But then the guy said, almost casually, “My dad lives in Indianapolis. My mom kicked him out a few years ago, after she saw him hit Will when he was sick. He had just turned six.”

Billy’s stomach dropped at the thought of Baby Byers as…well, as a _baby_ , getting smacked around by his old man, but he didn’t let his thoughts reach his expression or his tone when he said almost detachedly, “Asshole.”

Byers huffed a breath through his nose, not quite a laugh. “Yeah, he was – _is_ ,” he corrected. “He used to hit my mom, but she didn’t know that he was hitting me, too. I hid it from her, because I didn’t want her to worry, and I saw how she got when _she_ was the target so I didn’t want to add to that. Turns out it could’ve saved all of us from trouble, because it was only when she saw him smack Will for dropping a bowl or some shit when he had the flu that she realized it was going to get worse, if he was willing to abuse a kid like that. After he was gone, I told her how Lonnie had hurt me too. It was the first time I saw her really cry.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I should tell someone about my own dad?” Billy said cynically, tapping a bit too hard to get rid of the ash at the end of his cigarette. “That it would help everyone involved if I just let someone know?”

Billy saw Byers shake his head out the corner of his eye. “No,” he denied. “I’m not going to pretend our situation is the same – I know enough to know that it isn’t. But I just wanted to let you know that…I get it. Why you reacted the way you did, in the kitchen. None of my family really does well with being startled, either. So if you ever want to get out of your house, you have blanket permission to come to ours whenever.”

“Yeah, pretty sure your mom wouldn’t be too pleased about me showing up all the time,” Billy huffed a little. “At the very least, she’d start to wonder if we’re fagging it together and why risk that kind of bullshit?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he remembered that Jonathan and Joyce already knew about Will being queer and were okay and even encouraging of it, and Jonathan might take exception to his little brother being badmouthed even tangentially, and he braced himself for a punch, regretting his words already.

Jonathan didn’t say anything about it though, and Billy didn’t want to look over to see what kind of expression might be on his face, so he couldn’t really tell what the guy might be thinking.

“I’m sure my mom already knows about your dad,” he said instead of the multitude of other things Billy might have guessed would come out of his mouth. “She’s perceptive like that.”

Billy wasn’t totally sure how to respond to that, mostly because he didn’t know how he himself felt about it in the first place. He thought he did a decent job at pretending everything was normal; even Max hadn’t figured out what went on between Neil and Billy for years, and she was the one living under the same roof as them. He supposed it was a little different, but still he hardly knew Joyce; he didn’t like the idea that a near stranger had taken one look at him and decided she had him figured out. But at least she understood, because she’d been through a lot the same thing, so she probably wasn’t pitying him or some shit.

They sat in silence there, each finishing their cigarettes as they shivered a little in the cold and stared out at the nothingness of the backyard. It surprisingly wasn’t awkward, the quiet just a comfortable companionship without expectations.

Eventually, Jonathan finished his cigarette and flicked the butt away before rising to his feet.

“I’ll make sure no one else comes out here to bug you,” he said, clapping a hand companionably to Billy’s shoulder. “Come inside whenever you feel like it.”

Billy sat there, cigarette smoldering between his fingers while Jonathan opened the back door, light and warmth and the distant sound of voices spilling out for a moment. The screen door bounced a couple of times as it fell closed behind him, and then Billy was left in the dark quiet once again.

He took a last puff from his cigarette before tossing the butt away, but he didn’t light another one. He stared up at the sky, breath fogging in front of him in the chill, surprised to realize that he didn’t feel so on edge as he had been even ten minutes before. Something about not having to put on a front, at least for a couple of people, was almost a relief. It was like when Max had finally figured out just how bad it got with Neil, and she couldn’t _really_ do anything to help, but just the fact that she knew, and she was on his side, had made him feel better about his situation than he ever had before.

Of course, to most people, it was still a secret. It had to be, because otherwise the even _worse_ secret of him being a queer would be revealed, and he would have as many people hating him as he would people thinking he deserved what he got. Keeping this secret just made his life – easier. It was less than a year before he would be out of the house anyway, and he could survive it until then.

But where his secret being revealed might have made him grit his teeth furiously before, making him feel trapped, for now it was…freeing.

Snow began to fall gently from the sky, little flurries that drifted through still air like a snow globe as it settled. He stayed and watched for a few moments longer, and then he got up, brushing off the seat of his pants, before going back inside the house.

***

No one mentioned Billy’s minor freak-out in the kitchen, and Billy wasn’t sure whether it was because it had been kept from the kids or if they were just pretending it hadn’t happened, but either option was alright with him. Max glanced over at him when he came back into the living room, before turning back to the board gave laid out on the coffee table, apparently deciding he looked well enough for her not to be concerned.

Hopper had returned with Joyce from the front porch, and they sat on the couch next to each other, looking very cozy when Billy looked over. He wondered if they were already an item, or if they were starting to become one, before he decided that it wasn’t his business and looked away.

Steve was talking with Nancy and laughing about something, and Billy gritted his teeth a little at that because they looked almost as cozy as Hopper and Joyce did, but then when Jonathan came over and Nancy immediately leaned into him instead, Steve looked at Billy right away, like he didn’t care about losing her attention, and he felt slightly vindicated.

“I don’t understand their game at all,” Steve told Billy, nodding to the kids as they shouted something about the legality of the movement of the game pieces. “You guys wanna play Phase 10 instead?”

Jonathan pulled out the card game from a cupboard in the end table next to the couch, and after a quick refresher of the rules they all sort of huddled around Steve and Nancy in the middle of the couch, since they didn’t want to move to the dining room for the table and the coffee table was already being used. The draw pile was on Steve’s leg, and the discard pile on Nancy’s, and Billy tried not to feel anything when he leaned in close to Steve to pick up a card with every turn.

It did end up being a fun game, which unfortunately grew larger when the kids decided that they wanted to learn and play the game too, not being familiar with it as it was a relatively new card game. They ended up adding another box of the cards to accommodate for the number of people, and they tugged the coffee table closer to them to actually use a table this time for their piles, and even Hopper and Joyce ended up joining them. It was a little weird for Billy to see and participate in it all, because it felt almost like a family game night, but more like a family _should_ be and not what something like this would look like in the Hargrove household. He was just as welcome as everyone else, the kids just as likely to heckle him as they were each other, and no one made pointed comments designed to make Billy feel the need to leave them alone so they could have more fun.

He also discovered that Steve was a _terrible_ cheater, and by that he meant that he was _really_ good at it and had no remorse about thrashing them with it. No one else even _noticed_ , but as soon as Billy saw the guy pick up two cards instead of one, and then lay down two at the end of his turn, his lips tugged up in a smirk, because he could _use_ this.

Trading cards with each other was easy to do, since they were sitting next to each other, but the sheer _volume_ in the room that came with playing with the kids allowed for them to go completely unnoticed when it wasn’t their turn, and they eventually abandoned sneakily shoving it between the crack where their legs pressed against each other and swapped cards in full view of everyone else without being caught. Steve then started giggling helplessly, and that shit was _contagious_ , and someone was going to think they were _already_ high by the way they were laughing to each other but Billy almost _felt_ high with the sheer _content_ that flooded through him as the night went on. Sometimes Max or Hopper would ask why they were laughing, and they just waved it away, blaming it on nothing, and they returned their attention to others in the din without pressing for more. That just made it even _funnier_ , honestly.

Eventually they were caught when Steve traded his entire hand with Billy just before it was his turn, and the entire room seemed to explode with sound at the revelation as they tossed cards at the both of them in protest, good-natured complaining coming from every direction as the two shielded themselves from the projectiles, still laughing hysterically.

They abandoned the game after that, and Hopper and Joyce disappeared into the kitchen before coming back with _actual champagne glasses_ full of bubbly liquid.

“It’s just sparkling cider,” Will was the one to tell him, seeing Billy’s shocked look that the adults were giving out alcohol to a bunch of minors. “Mom likes to get Martinelli’s for the holidays.”

Billy relaxed at that, because that made more sense than the ideas going through his head. When Joyce offered a glass to him, he noticed that the shape of the glass was different from the ones the kids were receiving, but he didn’t think much of it until Joyce winked at him and said, “Had to get a different set for the adults, with so many people here this year.”

Billy raised an eyebrow at that, but she was already turning away with her own glass, and then Steve, who had taken a sip just then, choked a little on his drink.

At Billy’s look, Steve leaned over and said quietly, “Yeah, I don’t think the glasses are the _only_ things different from the kids’.”

Billy’s other eyebrow raised to join the first, and he took a sip from his glass, realizing immediately that yep, this was real champagne. Cheap champagne, but it’s not like Billy would have expected a Dom Pérignon.

He snorted a little into his glass, because he wouldn’t have expected such tacit permission to drink alcohol from such a mom like Joyce Byers. He supposed that it _was_ technically a special occasion, though, being New Year’s Eve and all. He remembered Jonathan’s comment earlier that night, about not being allowed to bring alcohol into the house, and supposed it was different if Joyce was the one bringing it and then passing it around.

Joyce and then Hopper made toasts, which was mushy and familial but Billy couldn’t really complain about it when he agreed with their statements about being glad for the safety of the people in that room, and friendships created or made better, yadda yadda yadda. He just raised his own glass along with everyone else and took another sip from his glass.

Everyone devolved into chattering again, breaking the quiet that had fallen when the adults had made their toasts, and the kids were talking about going outside to see the fireworks that would go off at midnight just a few minutes away. Billy turned his head when he felt a tap on his arm, and saw Max standing there with an expectant, hopeful look on her face.

“Whaddya want, shitbird?” Billy asked, voice relaxed as he sat halfway sprawled in his corner of the couch.

“Can I try some of your drink?” she asked him, pointing at the still half-full champagne glass he held at his knee.

He raised an eyebrow at her, not moving. “You got your own drink.”

Max gave him a _look_ , her expression perfectly conveying, _Bitch, please_. “I’m not an idiot, I know yours is different from what they gave _us_.” She bounced a little where she stood, wheedling, “ _Please_? Just a taste?”

Billy sighed deeply like he was incredibly reluctant, but at least Max wanted to try alcohol with him right there and not stupidly on her own or at a party with no one to make sure she was alright afterwards. And it _was_ only a little bit; it wouldn’t be enough to make her drunk, and if she had an adverse reaction to it then their parents weren’t going to be back until the second and they would never know. He glanced over at Joyce and Hopper, but they weren’t looking his way, too caught up in their own conversation, so he looked back at Max, switching the glass to his other hand and holding it out to her.

“Just a sip,” he agreed, and she grinned, accepting the glass and immediately knocking back a gulp of it. The grin quickly transformed into a grimace, and she practically shoved the glass back at him.

“ _Yuck_ ,” she complained expressively. “Why do you drink that shit?”

“It’s tradition,” Billy said dryly, swirling the last of it a little in the bottom of the glass. “And there are better tasting alcohols out there.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Max said, smacking her tongue in disgust at the flavor still sticking to it, and turned around again to join her friends once more. Billy hid a victorious grin and tipped the glass back to swallow the rest of it.

“That was smooth,” Steve said with a little smirk next to him, and Billy chuckled, setting the now empty glass down on the side table beside the couch.

“It’ll keep her from alcohol for a little while longer, at least,” he agreed. “If I thought she’d like it, I wouldn’t have given it to her till at least high school.”

“I think the first time I had alcohol, it was some of my dad’s bourbon when I was like, six,” Steve mused, staring up at the ceiling. “It was so gross I threw up immediately; for years I thought that’s what a hangover was.”

Billy laughed at the story of little Steve’s misunderstanding. “When’d you finally realize how wrong you were?”

“Summer before my freshman year,” Steve said with a crooked grin, looking over at him. “The morning after my first keg. I swore off alcohol forever, but we all know how that works once the hangover wears off and the next party comes around.”

Billy laughed, because he didn’t know how many times he’d sworn off alcohol supposedly forever when he was in the midst of an awful hangover, but then it never seemed a big deal when he was feeling okay again.

A sudden explosion and crackling outside alerted them that the fireworks had started, and within seconds all the kids piled out into the front yard, staring up to see the fireworks being set off from various houses nearby. The adults and near-adults followed at a more sedate pace behind them.

They watched the fireworks for a few minutes, and then Dustin was the one to shout that it was ten seconds until midnight. He counted down as though it meant anything to him, and then the others joined in, cheering once they crossed over into 1985. Billy smirked a little when Mike kissed El suddenly and very awkwardly, and ignored (for the sake of his own sanity) Lucas and Max sharing a chaste kiss a few feet away.

“ _Ew_!” Dustin cried, incredibly immaturely as was his modus operandi. Billy laughed, looking up at several explosions in quick succession as midnight seemed to be a few seconds later than the others had assumed, or maybe the other people setting off the fireworks were slightly off in their timing – it didn’t matter. He glanced over at Steve then, and for a moment he thought Steve was just looking away from him and up at the sky, but it didn’t make sense why Steve would be looking at him and not the fireworks so he figured he must’ve been looking at something else.

Whatever. He stared for a moment at Steve’s face, at the play of exploding red and blue lights above them making Steve’s face change colors, his eyes reflecting the fireworks as he stared up at the night sky. Some snowflakes had clung to his eyelashes, looking like crystals as he blinked.

Steve looked over at him then, catching Billy ~~staring~~ looking at him, but rather than being startled or weirded out, he smiled a little and said, “Happy New Year, Bills.”

Billy blinked, smiled, looked back up at the fireworks still going off. “Happy New Year,” he echoed.

***

The kids didn’t want to go back home, and Joyce was perfectly alright with them having a sleepover at her house. After some quick calls to get permission from their parents, the kids piled onto the floor of the living room with piles of blankets and pillows, furniture shoved aside to make room for all of them. This seemed to be a normal occurrence for the kids, because Billy didn’t think that _all_ of the blankets and pillows were the Byers’, but had accumulated over time from all the kids and left there for the sake of convenience.

Billy was pretty sure Neil wouldn’t be happy about Max sleeping surrounded by a bunch of boys, but Neil – and Susan, for that matter – didn’t have to know about it. And, if they ever _did_ find out, the Chief of Police himself was there, and so was his daughter, and even Billy was in the back room if anything were to happen. (Not that _Billy_ would think anything would happen because he knew these dweebs didn’t have an evil bone in their bodies, but _Neil_ would definitely be suspicious.)

After the kids had taken over the living room, Jonathan had led the way to his own bedroom, and Billy remembered his earlier offer to get high, and couldn’t believe he’d forgotten it in the events of the night. He’d thought that they would be hiding their intentions from Joyce or even Hopper, but when they had passed Joyce in the hallway she had told them, “Drink enough water, and crack a window.”

She really was a cool lady, Billy reflected as they settled in Jonathan’s room. First handing out alcohol to seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds, and then giving that same tacit permission to go smoke weed in her son’s room. But even with that, it wasn’t with a casual disregard, like she didn’t care about their wellbeing, but like she knew they were going to do it anyway and just wanted them to be safe. It was like when Billy had let Max drink off of his champagne earlier.

There wasn’t enough room for all four of them to comfortably sit on Jonathan’s bed, so they settled into something of a semicircle on the ground, leaning against the side of it or against the bedside table. Jonathan pulled his box of weed out from under his bed, and Nancy pulled out some papers from her purse to add to the box as Jonathan indeed had only a couple left. Billy was further surprised to see Priss Nancy assemble her joint with all the deft smoothness of a seasoned pro.

“I’m not all books and knee-length skirts, Hargrove,” she said, casually calling him out when she saw the surprised, slightly impressed look he wasn’t able to hide quite fast enough. She took the lighter from Jonathan, lighting the end of her joint before lighting his as he finished wrapping his own.

“Noted,” Billy said, conceding her point with grace before licking his paper to seal it. He looked over at Steve as the guy inhaled his own first hit, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to rest against the bed. Billy tore his gaze away from the long, pale column of his throat and lit his own, the last one to do so.

He hadn’t really expected _quality_ weed, because this was Hawkins after all, but on his first inhale he had to readjust his preconceptions, because this shit was just as good as the stuff Steve liked to bring when they hung out to get high, too.

“Damn, Byers,” he exhaled in a cloud of smoke. “This is good shit. You and Harrington got the same supplier or something?”

Byers tilted his head down to look at Billy, eyes a little hazy already but amused. “I _am_ his supplier.”

Billy blinked, feeling a little slow on the uptake because he hadn’t expected _that_ , though he supposed he shouldn’t really be that surprised. Jonathan had that tortured artistic vibe going for him, the one that always seemed to go hand in hand with getting high a lot for fun rather than because he needed to escape something like Billy had the first time he’d tried it.

Steve laughed a little beside him. “He won’t tell me who _his_ supplier is,” he confided. “I’ve got this theory that he grows it himself.”

“What else would I do with the basement space?” Jonathan played along, and Billy shook his head in amusement, taking another hit and holding it in his lungs for a moment before blowing the stream of smoke toward the ceiling. He wondered if the guy really _did_ grow his own, and with a mom like Joyce he really couldn’t say either way.

After his first joint was gone, Billy was feeling relaxed enough that he didn’t really want a whole other one for himself, but when Nancy rolled another one, he took a couple of hits off of hers, a little surprised when she let him but not complaining. He still wasn’t crazy about her after everything that had gone down between her and Steve (he was high; he didn’t have as many compunctions about admitting – at least to himself – that it was her treatment of Steve that bothered him the most about her), but she wasn’t as much of an uptight bitch as he’d originally thought. He could be friendly without being friends with her, he decided.

The four of them didn’t talk about anything serious; they mostly gossiped about people at school, and Billy found himself snorting at an impression Jonathan did of Tommy H that was so spot-on his stoned brain thought for a moment that Jonathan had _actually_ been replaced with the Mexican. When Billy admitted this out loud, Steve had laughed so loud and so hysterically that Billy worried for a moment that they were going to wake the kids in the other room before he forgot his concern as they all devolved into laughter and giggles along with him.

Steve started leaning on him as he went through his second joint, eyes heavy-lidded and reddened from the drugs, looking half a second from falling asleep. The first time he felt the pressure of Steve against his side, he’d poked him lightly and teased him about Steve’s weight making his arm go numb, but when it happened again he allowed it, because maybe he liked the feeling of Steve pressed against him and they could always blame it on the weed later.

Leaning against him turned into both of them lying on the ground, spread out a little and staring at the ceiling while Jonathan and Nancy kept smoking. Now that they were both lying down, Steve wasn’t leaning on him anymore or even touching him except for his foot touching Billy’s ankle, but that didn’t really count. He briefly mourned the distance between them, because the almost-cuddling had been nice, but then he got distracted by the pattern of the ceiling, and he spent the next several minutes trying to decide whether one section of it resembled a dick or a dolphin more.

Steve fell asleep shortly after that, and Jonathan and Nancy ended up moving up to the bed, while Billy stayed awake, staring at the ceiling and having no interest in moving even a finger to get more comfortable. He heard kissing coming from the bed, and for a moment he worried that they were going to get hanky _right there_ , because he was really uninterested in being a voyeur to any of that sort of thing and even the thought made him feel a little icky and uncomfortable, but then the sounds were replaced with soft snoring, and he released a breath of relief that they had decided to sleep instead.

Billy could feel a soft breeze coming in from the window that Jonathan had opened when they’d first come into the room, and it felt pretty nice against his heated skin. His eyes fell closed almost against his will, and with the sound of soft snores and quiet wind filling the space around him, he drifted off to sleep.

***

Billy woke up feeling slightly chilled on one side of his body, while the other was pleasantly warm. He blinked his eyes open, and for a moment was incredibly confused, not recognizing where he was, before he remembered the party the night before, and getting high in Jonathan’s room after everyone else had gone to bed. He blinked again, and looked over to discover that the cause for the warmth on one half of his body was the body of one Steve Harrington.

Steve had probably gotten chilled in the night, and in his sleep had gone to Billy like a heat-seeking missile. It was the only explanation Billy could find for the way he was _snuggled_ into Billy’s side, one arm wrapped around Billy’s own like he was holding a teddy bear, his head buried against Billy’s shoulder. He was half on his stomach, his other arm tucked under himself, one leg pressed along the length of Billy’s own.

Billy swallowed, trying to calm the sudden racing of his heart, because there were all sorts of ways he could read into Steve instinctively wanting to cuddle with him, and none of them led to good places or reasonable conclusions. His body shivered a little, and he blamed it on the chill in the air, glancing over and seeing that the window was still cracked open from the night before. Looking over at the alarm clock on the nightstand, he saw that it was a little past six-thirty in the morning.

Taking a breath, Billy carefully disentangled himself from Steve, and when Steve actually _whined_ in his sleep at the loss of warmth he had to clench one hand into a fist at the sudden pressure in his chest at the sound. He pushed aside thoughts that sprang up at the sound, the ones of him wondering how he might get those sorts of sounds out of Steve in _other_ situations, because that was never going to happen and he needed to fucking _stop_.

He fetched a folded blanket from a shelf in Jonathan’s closet, spreading it out carefully over Steve, trying not to wake him up as he did. He let out a quiet breath of relief when Steve just wiggled a little and rolled over, remaining asleep. He went to the window and closed it as quietly as possible, then turned on the little space heater in the corner of the room to get it to warm up for the three still sleeping.

He closed Jonathan’s bedroom door silently behind him, walking carefully down the hall of the silent house. He glanced into the living room, saw the kids all still asleep and in various states of snuggling into each other like puppies.

He didn’t really know what to do until people were awake, and he figured they would probably start waking up soon, so he decided to see what he could do about breakfast.

Half an hour later, El was the one to appear first, walking into the kitchen in socked feet, rubbing her eyes.

“Hey, kid,” Billy greeted quietly, mindful of the others still sleeping. “Looks like you get the first waffle.”

El blinked at him, then down at the waffle iron he was manning. “That’s not Eggos,” she said, looking very confused.

Billy fought down the smile quirking at his lips. “Not all waffles are Eggos,” he told her. “You never had a waffle that wasn’t frozen?”

El shook her head wordlessly, coming closer to watch him as he opened the iron, using a fork to detach the waffle and transfer it to a plate.

“Well, then you’re in for a treat,” he informed her, passing the plate over to her. “Don’t let your dad know I gave you one of these before the sausage.” The sausage links were cooking in the oven, the smell of them just beginning to permeate the front of the house; it had probably been what had drawn El to the kitchen in the first place. He figured the rest of the kids wouldn’t be far behind, and then he could make the scrambled eggs because those were never good after they’d gone cold.

El looked at the waffle on the plate with a dubious expression, but either she trusted Billy’s judgment or it looked enough like an Eggo for her to be okay to at least try it, because she grabbed the syrup from the counter and drizzled it over the plate in the same way she always did with her Eggos. He watched her out the corner of his eye as he scooped more batter into the iron, seeing as she took a bite of her waffle and her expression lighting up.

“Yummy,” she declared through a syrup-sticky mouth.

Billy nodded knowingly. “Of course they are, I make _great_ waffles,” he said smugly, closing the iron over the batter.

“Eggos are better,” she said then, a teasing twinkle obvious in her eye.

“Alright, you little shit,” Billy said mock angrily, playfully ruffling her hair and then shoving her head lightly. She giggled and took another bite of her waffle.

At that moment, the phone in the hallway began ringing, and Billy cursed under his breath, because he didn’t want it to wake up anyone else; waking kids up early always made them grumpy, no matter what they insisted about not actually being kids.

“If the red light turns off, take out the waffle,” Billy directed El, and she nodded as he jogged to go get the phone, disregarding the fact that it wasn’t his house. Someone was calling at fucking seven in the morning; he doubted that it was anyone the Byers knew, so it didn’t matter if he told whoever it was to fuck off.

He snatched the phone off the hook as it was ringing the third time, cutting off the grating sound and bringing it to his ear.

“Byers residence,” he barked, but he kept his voice quiet in case by some miracle everyone had slept through the first couple of rings.

“Billy? Is that you?” someone said from the other end, and it took him a moment to place the familiar voice.

When he did, he stood up straight, spine stiffening immediately. “Kali?”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh I know, I'm terrible for ending it there. But KALI! I was so excited when I got an idea for how to bring her back, but you can see more details about that in the next installment. 
> 
> I had also intended to have more Billy and Joyce bonding, but decided to focus on Jonathan more, so - compromise. 
> 
> I love all the family feels in this one, honestly. And Steve and Billy cheating in Phase 10 - exact story happened with my dad and his best friend years ago, and it felt perfect to include it, lol. Except for them it was with Uno. But Phase 10 is my favorite game, and it's better with big groups like in here so that's my excuse for that one.
> 
> Anyway. I would love to hear your feedback! Thank you for reading!


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